FROM time to time in our little village, a desperate pet owner pastes lampposts, walls, in fact anything that doesn’t move, with A4 photocopies of their lost animal. Usually they’re dogs. Some offer a small reward, others don’t. All profess to the family’s love for Fido, and of his delicate health which will suffer without the proper medication. In fact this last fact is such a recurring one that I’ve decided that either there is a senior-dog napper in our midst or a secret Korean restaurant has opened up with a fistful of clients with a penchant for tough mutt.
I’ve never heard of any of the animals being found, though they could have been. As the weeks pass the ink on the posters runs in the rain; the paper goes brown in the sun and the wind rips it to shreds until it flaps itself violently off its support. Interestingly Fido is never worth a colour photocopy. Just black and white.
Today The American and I took our morning constitutional to pick up the daily newspapers. A bit of exercise, a chat and a quick bark at the newsagent (a technique I learned off a Yorkshire Terrier a few days ago so it’s still a joke which has The American, The Newsagent and I rolling around rather pathetically). Overnight a new A4 photocopy had hit our streets but surprisingly this time it is for a lost eagle. Yes, an eagle. And the caring owner had even included a photo of his bird. I studied it for a moment while The American strided ahead (he has long legs).
“Hey O!”, I shouted. “Take a look at this”.
He backtracked. We looked at the poster. “Now there’s a face I’d recognise anywhere” I said. Hoots of laughter. The joys of sharing the same warped sense of humour. I thought the outline of an eagle in flight might be more useful. After all I was hardly going to come face to face with our feathered friend and we have eagles and other indigenous birds of prey flying around these mountains and I don’t think I’m the only one who’d have trouble knowing one from the other.
We walked on. I struggled with the ethics of returning our buddy to captivity should he land unsuspectingly on my shoulder. After all he’d made a successful break for freedom. Would he be able to feed himself? The American thought so. Thought the eagle’s natural instinct would kick in. I do hope so. We mused over the situation.
“Kinda like returning a slave to captivity” said The American after a while.
Fly on feathered friend. Hope you’re enjoying your new-found freedom.
Sorry, no weather included today. TV weather forecast just starting. Sad I know.